


Plans for the Future

by thievinghippo



Series: Sonya Shepard [8]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing more difficult than planning and discussing the worst case scenario, especially with the one you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plans for the Future

The datapad felt heavy in his hand.

Garrus paused outside Shepard’s cabin, the first time he could remember ever hesitating. Even before the Omega-4 relay, their first night together, he hadn’t lingered outside her door.

But now? His feet were full of lead and the datapad an anchor. This was a conversation they needed to have, but never did he feel less like talking.

EDI’s voice interrupted his thoughts. _I have informed Shepard that you are outside the door._

He groaned. “Thanks a lot, EDI,” he said, slamming the door’s interface with his palm. No point waiting now. The doors opened and he stepped inside.

Shepard sat on the couch, leaning forward. In front of her were two bottles of alcohol and six shot glasses, all full to the brim. She looked up as he walked down the stairs. The smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You ready for this?” she asked, the glibness in her voice sounded forced. She leaned back on the couch, crossing her leg at the knee. Garrus gave himself one moment to admire her legs in the cotton shorts she wore before sitting next to her.

He wore civilian clothes himself, and Shepard apparently wanted to take full advantage. Her hand went round his back and settled on his waist. There was no teasing in the gesture, just solid pressure and comfort.

Garrus wrapped his arm around her shoulders, stroking the firm muscles of her bicep. “No,” he answered honestly. “I’m not ready.”

Shepard turned immediately, so that she faced him on the couch, her legs under her. “Okay. Another time then,” she said with far too much eagerness.

He placed his hand on her thigh. “Shepard,” he said softly.

Her head dropped slightly. “That wasn’t a real ‘I’m not ready,’ was it?” she said with a sigh.

He shook his head then looked at the shot glasses on the coffee table. “Which is dextro?” he asked.

Shepard turned again, so she faced the table. She picked up two of the shot glasses and handed one to him. Her fingers caressed the palm of his hand as she lifted her glass in a mock toast. “Cheers.”

Garrus threw back his shot, feeling the alcohol burning down his throat. “Damn, Shepard,” he said, shaking his head. “This has got to be the worst brandy I’ve ever tasted.”

“Potent,” Shepard said with a smirk, handing him another shot. “I was aiming for potent.”

They drank their remaining shots in rapid succession.

“Feel it yet?”

“Gimme ten minutes and I will,” Garrus said. Though honestly, he already felt his inhibitions lowering. He patted his lap. “So come here.”

“EDI, start a ten minute countdown,” Shepard said with a grin as she settled herself onto his lap.

The next ten minutes passed in a blur of skin and tongues and hands. Plates loosening, but not parting, the deadline still burning in his mind.

_It has been ten minutes._

Shepard looked at him carefully, still straddling him. “Buzzed?”

Garrus took stock of himself. Buzzed was what he was going for. Not drunk, because he needed to remember the conversation. But most certainly not sober. “Definitely.”

“How do you want this to work?” Shepard asked.

“EDI,” Garrus said, speaking to the air, since her mobile platform sat in the cockpit. “Please record our conversation until we say to stop.”

_Understood._

Garrus leaned back his head carefully, letting the edges of his fringe rest against the wall. The timing of this conversation was horrible. But when he closed his eyes and saw Shepard falling out of that underwater mech into the path of two brutes yesterday over and over, he knew it was time.

“So just tell you?” Shepard asked.

“And then I’ll tell you,” Garrus said, taking Shepard’s hands and gently tugging so she was sitting flush next to him.

She leaned forward and buried her head in the crook of his neck. He could feel her puffs of breath on his hide and could tell she didn’t want to do this anymore than he did.

“I want to be cremated,” she said finally. “I don’t want another Cerberus group bringing me back to life.”

Garrus closed his eyes and placed his hands on her waist and squeezed gently, reminding himself that she was right here, right in his arms. “Alright,” he said, breathing in her scent, trying to give himself some measure of comfort. “What do you want done with the ashes?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly as she sat up and looked at him. “I think usually they’re scattered over some area that’s important to the person. I don’t know if I like that though.”

“I’ll bury them,” Garrus said suddenly. He leaned his head forward slightly. Shepard picked up the movement immediately and rested her forehead against his.

“Where is the next question, I guess,” Shepard said, keeping still. “I don’t want to be a spectacle. The Alliance would probably put up some big monument in Vancouver or something. And I’ve no idea where my mom or grandpa is buried.”

“The ashes need a place they can rest,” Garrus told her. He had to say ‘the’ ashes. He couldn’t bear to call them ‘her’ ashes.

“Rest sounds good,” Shepard said with a harsh laugh.

They had an unspoken rule not to discuss the future. The rule never kept him from thinking about it, though. And in his mind, it was always their future, never just his. He pictured them settling down – which planet depended on his mood –– and maybe giving a home to a few ‘angry orphans’ along the way.

Garrus craved that future in a way he didn’t think possible. But if the worst happened, and considering how many times he thought he was about to watch her die since the Reapers hit, he wanted to be prepared.

He slid one talon down her cheek. “We could take the ashes to Palaven,” he said, trying to keep the nervousness of what he was suggesting out of his voice. And of course his nerves led to too many words. “There’s a Vakarian plot there. In a military cemetery, so all the grave markers are the same, except for the names and dates, of course.” A painful thought occurred to him as he continued. “My mother is already there. There are trees and a pond… I could visit… And then someday… I would join you…”

Shepard lifted her head from his then and looked him straight in the eye. “Not for a very long time,” she said firmly.

“You know what I mean,” Garrus said quickly, refusing to think about how he handled her death last time, when he hadn’t even been in love with her.

"Vakarian plot, huh? Would that even be allowed? A human in a turian graveyard?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"I'd like to see anyone try to stop me," he said. At her look of concern, he added, "I've seen asari names there before."

"Okay. That's what I want then." She nodded, more to herself. Then looked up. "EDI, I want to be cremated and buried in the Vakarian family plot on Palaven."

_Understood, Shepard. Shall I update your Alliance records?_

"Is that specific information still privacy protected?" Shepard asked. Garrus understood immediately why she wanted to know. Some of her Alliance records could be accessed by the press. And Garrus certainly didn't want someone like that al-Jilani woman knowing Shepard's final resting place.

_They are, yes._

"Then update my records, please," Shepard said. She looked at him with an expression Garrus couldn't quite read.

He raised his hands and brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. Garrus felt grateful for the silence as he let her decision sink in. He couldn't help but feel that something had just changed between them. Made unbreakable. And now he desperately wished he didn't have any alcohol in his system, so he could think clearly.

“What about you?” Shepard asked softly, placing her hands on his neck.

"Turians bury the bodies of their dead," he told her. "Pretty sure my records say that I should go into the family plot. Probably next to my mother. I'll have it updated so I'm next to you. Or if I go first, they'll save you a spot."

She leaned into him then, pressing her torso against his. Garrus wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth against his body. "Shit, this is hard to deal with," she said. "Alcohol's not helping like I thought it would."

"No, it's not," he said honestly.

“But you’re right,” Shepard said softly, fisting the fabric of his tunic in her hands. There was sorrow on her face, a look Garrus hated seeing. ““We need to talk about this.”

“Say that again,” Garrus said, nuzzling the side of her neck.

“That we need to talk about this?” Shepard asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No, the part about me being right,” Garrus told her. She laughed, bright and crisp, like he hoped she would.

Her voice took on a husky tone. “You, Garrus, were right,” she said, her fingers stroking underneath his fringe.

“A turian could get used to used to hearing that,” Garrus said, closing his eyes in contenment.

“Well, then I obviously don’t tell you nearly enough,” Shepard said, her voice suddenly serious tone. Garrus had hoped the worse was over, but she apparently had other ideas. “So I did what you asked, thought of something to talk about.”

“Yeah?”

“My apartment on the Citadel.”

Garrus felt his brow plates furrow, not sure what her apartment had to do with anything.

"You've only been there once," Garrus said. They had planned on taking a few days of shore leave when Anderson officially gave her the apartment, but the quarians and the geth came calling, changing their plans.

"I wish you could have seen it, Garrus," Shepard said with a smile. "There was a hot tub."

He chuckled, pleased to talk about happier things for a moment. "I bet we could get into a bit of trouble with that."

"Damn straight," Shepard said, stretching her arms over her head. Garrus took the opportunity to slide his hands around her waist. "Would you be okay if I put you on the deed?"

That stopped his hands. "Own it with you?" She nodded. Garrus saw an opportunity to make her smile and decided to take it. "You just want help paying the taxes, don't you?"

Shepard threw back her head and laughed. "You caught me. You probably make more than I do now. You're always buying the good booze."

"Your lack of taste in alcohol has nothing to do with our salaries, Shepard," Garrus said, nuzzling her neck again. Banter about alcohol was safe and familiar territory. He let himself relax a bit. "Put me on the deed, you cheap sake."

"Hear that, EDI?"

_Having access to both of your financial records, I can correct your assessment, Shepard. You have a higher salary. That being said, Garrus' financial portfolio is more diversified and robust._

"More robust, eh?" Shepard said, giving him a sly grin. "You'll have to show me those sexy stocks of yours someday."

"Gladly," Garrus said, trailing his tongue down Shepard's neck. His omni-tool beeped, distracting him from her skin.

_I've sent the paperwork to Garrus. Once it's completed, I'll send it on to the building's owner._

"Thank you, EDI,” Shepard said. She looked at him. “You have anything else?”

The question distracted him from her neck. The alcohol made him warm and all he wanted to do was turn down the lights and get lost in Shepard. The sooner they finished this conversation, the sooner he could do just that.

Just one more thing to deal with.

“Yeah.” He took a breath. “If a soldier is killed in action, the turian military has a small fund that goes to whoever the soldier lists. I listed my mother for a long time, but I’d like the credits to go to you now.”

Shepard was silent for a moment. “You sure? Not your father or your sister?”

“I’m sure,” Garrus said. It wouldn’t be a lot of credits, but he liked the idea of taking care of Shepard, even just a little bit, after his death.

“The Alliance has something like that as well,” Shepard said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I actually don’t have anyone listed now. I’ll add you, if you don’t mind. The money would be just enough for a kick ass party after the funeral."

"That what you want?" Garrus asked, wanting to make sure he got every detail right. That much he could certainly do for her.

Shepard nodded. “I’m sure the Alliance will want to have some sort of memorial and I’m sure it will be beautiful and touching, blah, blah, blah,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Afterward, I would very much appreciate it if you hosted a party for our friends and crew. Lots of drinks, lots of music and if there isn’t some sort of Shepard dance off contest, I will be very disappointed.”

It frightened Garrus how quickly this party formed in his mind. He could almost see it. They'd gather somewhere, maybe in the apartment that was now his in name as well. They'd swap stories, each one more exaggerated than the next. The alcohol would flow, music would blast and somehow he'd have to learn to live with a Shepard sized hole in his chest.

He had promised himself that he would get through this conversation without keening. A promise he tried desperately not to break as the thought of truly living without Shepard for the rest of his life settled around him.

She seemed to realize immediately what had happened. His eyes closed tight, he felt her throw her arms around his shoulders. "I'm right here, Garrus," she said, kissing his scarred mandible. "I'm not going anywhere."

His voice cracked. "You better not."

"EDI, please stop recording. Send a copy to both me and Garrus and log yourself out," Shepard said. Garrus opened his eyes then, hearing the hitch in her voice.

"Shepard..."

She kissed him hard on the mouth plates then. "I love you so damn much," she said.

They never said those words to each other lightly. In the month since he had asked if she was ready to be a 'one-turian kind of woman' he could count how many times they exchanged them on the fingers of one of his hands. Garrus much preferred showing her how he felt rather than telling her, and was more than relieved to discover that she had the same thoughts.

Garrus pressed his brow plates against her forehead, knowing he would never get enough of this, of her. They could live until they were two hundred years old, and he'd still want more.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

Her face lit up as she took his hand and gently kissed the inside of his wrist, where he had no plates covering the thin hide. “We good?” she asked.

Garrus took a deep breath, trying to figure out the words to tell Shepard how much this conversation meant to him. As horrible as the idea of it had been, he took comfort knowing while they might not be bonded, they were truly partners in life as well as in death. If anything happened to her, he would be the one to make the calls. And the same for him. Though if he had anything to say about it, the details of this conversation wouldn’t be needed for decades. A century or more.

“We good,” Garrus repeated, putting his hand and bringing her in for a kiss. After that conversation, they deserved something happy to think about and from how eagerly Shepard responded to his kiss, he knew she thought the same. “We good.”


End file.
